


Windmills of Your Mind

by oasis_wasteland



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Alternating, Rip Hunter-centric, RipFic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oasis_wasteland/pseuds/oasis_wasteland
Summary: Lieutenant Hunter and Lieutenant Coburn go on a mission that was supposed to be quite simple. But nothing is ever simple.______________________Rip Hunter Bingo 2020
Relationships: Gideon & Rip Hunter, Miranda Coburn/Rip Hunter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	Windmills of Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based on the song by Noel Harrison (if that wasn't already obvious)  
> Rip Bingo Prompts this covers:  
> 1- Outnumbered  
> 2- Cowboy Hat  
> 3- Ambush  
> 4- Gideon is annoyed  
> 5- Explosions  
> 6- Time Pirates  
> 7- Pocket Watch

_“If someone loves a flower,_

_Of which just one single blossom grows_

_In all the millions and millions of stars,_

_It is enough to make him happy just_

_To look at the stars. He can say to himself,_

_‘Somewhere, my flower is there…’_

_But if the sheep eats the flower,_

_In one moment, all his stars will be darkened.”_

* * *

Life wasn't easy for Rip Hunter, to be more precise, it was always hard. What should have been a simple mission for two young lieutenants; a low-priority, pick-up mission, turned into such a colossal mess that it broke all his records.

It started out normally, as any day did for Rip, Miranda was teasing him—and he enjoyed it because he liked her—and Gideon was annoyed with him—which he hated because he liked her.

“Gideon!”

“Yes, Lieutenant Hunter.” Rip refused to let the title hurt him. He was getting used to her calling him Captain.

He levelled his tone as to not sound angry. “Is there a reason all my clothes are a size too big?”

Her answer was immediate. “Must be a glitch in the system, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, _must be.”_ He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, which was useless, but it gave him a spot to direct his frustration. “And what about all the pinks and yellows?”

“A glitch, Lieutenant,” She answered emphasising each word slowly.

“Can you explain how all Miranda's clothes turned out just fine?” His tone of voice a notch higher.

“Glitches are by nature inexplicable.” After a brief pause, she said, with emotion—something he'd never expect from any other AI—"Maybe you can take a look during the next check-up.”

Rip took a deep breath to hold back his frustration. This was his fault after all. “I already apologised, Gideon. What more do you need?”

“I don't require anything. Although some of my systems do require regular maintenance.”

“Come on, Gideon, please.” He honestly didn’t know what else to say, how to argue over this.

Miranda said as she walked in. “Giving you trouble again?” The fabricator started at that precise moment.

Rip said miserably, “no. Just a glitch apparently.” He turned around to a sight that very nearly stopped his heart.

Miranda tipped her cowboy hat, clicking the spurs of her boots together. “What do you think?” She showed off her western suede skirt, white ruffle shirt, topped with a long coat.

He tried to say something, but words failed him. After many attempts, his brain could only supply one word: “What?”

“I think that glitch got to you, Rip,” She said with a small laugh.

He finally formed his thoughts into a question, “why are you dressed like _that_?”

“What?” A smile twitched behind a faux defensive expression. “Are you the only one allowed a cowboy kink?”

“I do _not_ have a cowboy—” He simply could not say ‘kink'. Miranda was laughing, delighted, and the Waverider hummed, its lights shining brighter. _Oh Great! They’ve teamed up against him._ “Could you please focus? We have a mission!”

Miranda huffed, taking off the hat. “You're no fun.” She walked up to him then placed the hat on his head. “It's alright, though, I've always been more of a pirate’s person.” She winked and left.

***

Miranda was ready—appropriately, this time—and waiting on the bridge when Rip arrived looking exactly as she left him, apart from a remarkably red face. She bit back a laugh knowing she was treading a thin line between teasing and mocking him. Miranda recognised the effects of Gideon’s annoyance on him, it was rather upsetting to watch. She thought she ought to have a chat with Gideon to go easy on him.

He burst into a rant the second he reached her, “This mission is bound to fail. I can't possibly go in my uniform; we're supposed to be undercover. And she—no sorry, the _Fabricator,_ ” He emphasised ‘fabricator’ with so much venom. “Won't bloody work. I can't—” He grit his teeth and almost growled. He stormed off to the parlour without another word.

She couldn't hear him, but watched as he paced deliberately, hands flailing and gesticulating heatedly what she assumed he was muttering. Miranda said evenly to the console besides her, “you'll forgive him soon, won't you, Gideon?”

After a beat, Gideon answered, “of course.” Miranda nodded, satisfied.

Miranda always envied their bond. All Time Master were assigned a ship with an AI, she had The Elysium and its AI, Gary. She liked her ship and she liked Gary; he was excellent help. But that’s all he was: help. Rip and Gideon were different; he was the only one to accept such an old ship and AI. In the beginning, Rip was always irritated with the ship and the opinionated AI, yet he turned down any offers of a transfer. Miranda watched them bicker and disagree so often, it was unlike any other relationship between a Time Master and AI.

As time passed, things changed. She noticed Rip softened and Gideon halted all her antagonistic antics against him. They became a team.

Until Calvert.

Many things changed after Calvert. Most of all Rip himself.

Just as he ran out of steam and collapsed on the leather sofa, she went to him. He didn't say anything, and she took the opportunity to look around his office. Rip hadn't been assigned the Waverider long enough to accumulate possessions, anything personal of his was scarce. Though, it was much more than Miranda had, or cared to have.

She felt his eyes follow her all the while. She reached the one corner with most of his things and heard him shift when she touched the poster of a man named Jonah Hex. The man looked rough and angry, his eyes staring back intensely.

Her curiosity won over the logical, boundary-respecting part of her brain and she asked, “will you ever tell me what happened in Calvert that almost had you leave all this behind?” Her eyes fixed on the duster folded up next to the poster. It looked old and worn, an obvious contrast to their bland and pristine uniforms.

“I came back,” he said, hesitant and quiet.

“But you almost didn’t,” she argued because she didn’t know when to stop. “So, who kept you there?” She didn’t give him time to evade the question or lie. “Was it whoever gave you this?”

He stared at the coat in her hand like it held the answer for him. In a way, it did.

“He was a friend.”

“Was that all?”

His eyes flicked to the poster and returned to the coat. “Yes.”

“You know, Rip, I have no ownership over you. Just because you and I—” She gestured between them but couldn’t say it out loud. Whether from fear of being overheard by a governing ear or fear of breaking the magic of it with reality, she couldn’t tell. Their relationship—if you could call that—was as young and small as a candle flame and Miranda felt the need to cover and protect it from the slightest breeze.

He met her eyes squarely. “I know,” he said, reassuring. “And I came back.” A knot untied in her chest and she could finally breathe properly.

“Take off your shirt.”

His face reddened. “What?”

“Relax,” she laughed. “Just, listen to me.”

He took it off, slowly, and narrowed his eyes at her. When he was standing in a plain t-shirt, she helped him put on the duster then took a step back.

The jacket made him look different: taller, timeless, fearless. “Now that looks like Rip Hunter.”

***

“We're late,” Rip said, dragging Miranda away from the third stall, with an impressive display of swords, that she'd wandered off to.

She rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be guided away. “We are not late, no one arrives to a meeting with a fence on time.” He found her logic questionable at best.

“And how do you know this?”

“Everyone knows this,” she said it with no shred of doubt and the confidence of someone obviously lying. “Besides, Rubio and I have a thing, a rapport.”

“He has an understanding with Kathy, not you. You know he'll kill you given the chance.”

“I know this, he doesn't have to. What he does know is, Kathy is never on time, and she knows he's always selling for a higher price. But they work well together.” He wondered if she was as thoroughly confused as he at her explanation. “Look, we don't get many chances to see the world we’re protecting. I know _you_ had a big adventure recently,” she side eyed him. “But some of us don't get this opportunity often. It's all going to be alright; this will be simple.”

Rip understood the desire to see the world as more than a time stream chart, the need to be a part of history not just oversee it. He understood the appeal of exploring and getting lost in every world they visited. It was what had happened to him in Calvert. The appeal, the distraction of the era and its people attracted him like a moth to a flame.

He liked seeing Miranda in the world as well. He liked watching her interact with people, her curiosity and excitement drawing her to various stalls, and in return many people drawn to her. He liked how her eyes lit up and her smile widened when she spotted something to her liking. Most of all, he liked her. Which was why he said, “fine. One more stop, just one.”

“Just one.” She confirmed. “Fortunately, it's near the meeting location, right next to the unfinished plaza, and there's one shop across from it that has all the items to your cowboy starter kit.”

Rip was regretting his decision and definitely questioning how serious his feelings were. He tried to convey that in a single stare directed at her. Miranda laughed at him and walked ahead.

It was a short walk to the meeting location; Miranda led the way since she'd been there before. They hadn't taken another stop at the market no matter how many times they were called by the vendors. Miranda, particularly, was busy telling Rip the story of how she met Rubio and her alias's backstory.

She was so enthralled in the tale, she failed to notice the absence of the last stall she'd insisted to see, Rip didn't see any evidence of the Old West merchandise he was promised. He did notice the crowds thinning but for few shifty looking individuals.

The incomplete skeleton of the plaza towered menacingly, casting shadows like prison bars on its surroundings. Rip looked back at the rows of stalls behind him, a couple of merchants were moving their things, one of them locked eyes with him and scurried away. Miranda was saying something behind him but he couldn't focus. He felt the shift in the air before it happened, heard the click and screech of a door and realised too late what was happening.

The sound of explosion carried his shouts away, the image of Miranda's flying body was the last thing he saw.

_Captain..._

_Captain Hunter, you have to come back!_

_Captain, are you there?_

_You need to come back or the Time Masters will take the Waverider back._

_Captain, get up!_

_Come back..._

“Gideon...”

“Captain Hunter, are you okay?”

He tried to lift himself up, his entire body protested. “Gideon what happened?”

“There was an explosion, authorities are on the way. Are you hurt?”

His body ached all over, a throbbing pain in his leg stood out, he felt blood trickling down his face. “I think so,” he said and pushed himself up from the floor. The pain was blinding he almost collapsed right back. He wanted to, he wanted to just lie there until things felt better.

“Any head injuries, Captain?”

He breathed deeply and wished the world would go quiet for a second, wished for the ringing in his ear would stop.

“Have you sustained head injuries, Captain Hunter?”

“I'm fine... I'm alright,” he reassured her and finally sat up. His head felt light, the shadows blurred and the sun gave him a headache.

“No, you are not, Captain.”

“I'll manage,” he muttered and stood up slowly. He'd dust himself but he saw no point, everything around him was destroyed and covered in soot.

He looked around, heart racing. “Where’s... where’s—Gideon, where is she? Miranda. Where is she?”

“I don't know,” she said, softly. “Her comm is offline.”

Whoever blew up the plaza—Rip had a very good guess—must have taken her. He refused to think of an alternative, a possibility more permanent that cannot be remediated. Rubio must have found out about her and planned to take her or take her out.

“I have to find her, Gideon.”

“I know.”

“We have to find her.”

“Yes, Captain.” For some reason, Gideon sounded upset.

“Alright, just... just let me think.” He looked around, not one person in sight, all the stalls nearest were moved before hand, which meant this was planned. Authorities were taking their time it seemed, that indicated they were in on it, or bribed to look away. They only took Miranda, so he guessed they didn't recognise him.

Flashing pain shot through his leg and he realised he'd been pacing all the while. “Rubio is probably not working alone, that means time pirates are involved.”

“That's the most likely assumption.”

“Their next move is probably you, actually.”

“Me?”

“They captured a Time Master, they know she got here some way, so they'd be looking for the ship,” he started towards the Waverider. “That means you need to conceal yourself and your signal as best as you can.”

“But that means I'll have to cut off the connection to your comm.”

“I know.” He winced, knowing what was coming.

“No, I won't;” she affirmed.

“Gideon... please.”

“You are hurt, you need medical attention.”

“So does Miranda, most likely. Which is why, I have to go find her and I need your help. Gideon, I need your help to find her. They will scan for any system of yours, if you receive their signal, I need you to trace it back and tell me.” He waited for a reply or objection, then continued, “I'm coming back, Gideon. I'll get her and come back. I promise.”

After a second, she answered, “I'll connect again when I find something. Be careful, Captain.”

“Thank you... and I will.”

And he really tried to be. Rip stuck to alleys and empty roads, he avoided all busy centres and the market. Zion wasn't a huge station, it was a docking port and commerce centre, most famous for its Old Bazaar, it had a small population from all around the galaxy.

While waiting for news, he checked on his leg. It had a huge bruise, and he couldn't put weight on it without wanting to scream in pain. His head injury stopped bleeding a while ago, but it did nothing to clear his mind. He then decided the best he could do was find a quiet area to rest until Gideon found something.

Rip drifted in and out of consciousness until the voice of Gideon startled his mind into clarity. “I found a signal, Captain.” He didn’t exactly spring into action as much as he stumbled and limped into it. Gideon patiently guided him to the coordinates, which led to a rusted, heavy sliding door.

“Don’t die,” Gideon said, pragmatically.

He laughed. “I promise.” He was nervous and in excruciating pain, he could hardly focus or stand. But in that moment, he was happy. _Gideon was going to forgive him._

With false confidence and a newly found enthusiasm, Rip stormed in there with the power of his fists and an empowering hobble. A cavernous, dark space greeted him; dread started slithering its way into his resolve as the room slowly filled with figures. From every corner and shadow, guns stepped out with their bearers right with them. Rip counted twelve of them then gave up.

There were more of them than him, that much was obvious, he didn’t require an exact count. And he had a feeling they weren't going to be polite about it and give him a chance.

“Bollocks,” he said as three men charged at him.

***

Kathryn ‘Kathy’ Ferdinand wasn't exactly a Time Pirate, she belonged to no crew and none one can pinpoint if she'd ever done something nefarious. There were rumours, most unconfirmed. She talked the talk but never walked the walk, and people seemed to notice.

Miranda liked Kathy, she was bolder than her, not smarter though. Ever since the Time Masters had them discard and let go of their real identities, Miranda had a hard time sticking to one. She liked those characters, she liked her aliases, they allowed her to be every version of her she found. Miranda hadn't looked in a while but she knew many more existed within her. It was fun. If your name wasn't tied to your sense of self then she had no obligation to it.

Recently, she started thinking of ‘Miranda’ as the basis of herself. She couldn't decide if it was because she used it most or because that was the name people she cared about knew her by. She figured, perhaps, the people around you and the relationships with them was what could legitimise a name.

She was mulling over that thought when her old friend came in the room. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you,” she glared at him.

“Oh, come on, Kathy,” he drawled. “It's business.”

“I thought we were _friends_ ,” she said, coating the word with so much contempt.

“Well, you see _Kathy,_ ” he matched her tone for ‘friends'. “We were. But now, I can't be friends with a Time Master, it’s not good for business.”

“Some of us aren't too bad,” she snarled.

He hummed in agreement. “You are cool, for a Time Master. Have you considered a career change?”

She didn’t want to admit that she had considered it. Her energy was draining away, she rested her head on the wall. “I'd love to talk more, but I'm just going to rest my head, just for a second.” Her words slurred towards the end.

A loud clang startled her up.

“Hey! Stay awake, I have no use of you dead.” He shook his head, anxious. “Stay up! I'm gonna go see if someone can look at that for you.” And he headed out.

Miranda wasn't holding her breath for that. Technically, she couldn't hold her breath if she wanted to, she was barely breathing as it was.

Next time that door opened, she didn't have time to get her hopes up, when Rip was thrown beside her on floor of the bare room with cracked walls and smell of rot. A tall, built—and quite familiar—man followed him and tied his hands and legs, exactly like hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Rescuing you,” he groaned.

“My hero,” she smiled as she watched him struggle. He ignored her.

“I have to thank you,” Rubio said. “Two Time Masters is better than one, a lot of people would be fighting to get their hands on you.” That was weird, she thought, they weren't rare to come by.

“What would they want with us?” She asked.

“Many things, mainly to enact revenge on Time Masters, a Maxis in particular is really excited about that.”

Rip groaned again, but she had a feeling it wasn't from physical pain.

“Yeah,” Rubio continued. “Now I just need your ship. That would be the big score.”

“Can't help you there,” Rip said. “We don't have one.”

“And how'd you get here?”

“Walked,” Rip answered sincerely. She even knew he was telling the truth in way. She bet he walked to this building in his current state. _The idiot._

“You're funny.” Rubio wasn't laughing. “I'm gonna leave you to think that over, and I suggest you come up with something when I get back.”

The second he left, Rip started dragging himself closer to her. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” she said.

He looked her over. “Are you bleeding?”

“Ye—Yeah.” She pulled her bloodied hands away from her stomach, revealing the protruding, steel pole. “Yeah.”

He stared at her in horror, stumbled over his words and eventually came up with nothing. “It's okay, I'm okay.” She wasn't. She could see he didn't believe her. “I’ll be okay.” She might have nodded too many times for it to be convincing. “So, what's your plan?”

“Gideon.”

“I hope there's more to it than that.”

“Do we need more than that?”

She laughed softly. “Probably not.” Gideon would rain fire upon anyone who'd dare hurt her Captain. “How did you know something was up?” He looked up from her wound to her face, confused. “I heard you, shouting right when it happened.”

“The Old West stall you said would be there, wasn't.”

“Ha, figured you’d notice it’s missing.” _This man and his cowboy kink._

Once again, he ignored her remark. “No one was there, not one person or stand... Which means they knew. That's what I don't get. If they knew, why would they let it happen?”

“They're not fond of Time Masters.” If ‘not fond’ meant ‘absolutely hated'.

“Why?”

“Bad for business,” she surmised, because explaining the long history of this station and Time Masters required more energy than she had.

She should have known Rip never stopped questioning everything. “What business?”

“Oh you know... smuggling, illegal trade in stolen historical artefacts, time pirates have been fencing and dealing here for years.”

“Zion is a black market?”

“Not all of it. Not all the time.”

“And you knew this?” He could be so oblivious at times.

“It's an Old Bazaar, Rip. What? Did you think everything here survived thousands of years and space colonisation?”

He gave her a look she couldn't understand. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I like it here,” she sighed. “The Time Masters will probably dismantle Rubio's hold on this place, many people's business will suffer, it'll probably close down... I didn't want that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.” She could guess who's fault it was, though. She was so stupid, to believe they'd known about her alias and allowed it. They were just waiting to use it. Use her. All those people and their families would be soon out of a job because of her.

“What are you doing?” Rip snapped. She pushed on her chest gently and slowly until she felt it, and pushed up. A small ornamental dagger fell with a clank. “How do you have that?” He looked at her with a mix of awe and worry.

“I bought it when we got here.”

“How do you still have that?”

She smiled. “They're very polite pirates.” Rip continued to stare at her as she tried and failed to cut off her ties. “A little help, please?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever train of thoughts he was lost in. He took the knife from her and started to work on the ties around her hand.

It should not have taken as long as it did to untie all the cords, but they were both in pain and shaky. Rip stood up first, wincing all the way up, then he helped Miranda. That was how they found them, leaning on one another and limping like a three-legged monster, barely capable of holding themselves up to be able to support each other. But they managed and pushed forward, when the door blew open and Time Masters flooded the room.

“Well, about time,” she greeted them.

“Lieutenants,” Master Declan walked in, blocking the entrance. “It's all taken care of now, you're okay.”

Rip appeared surprised by this, Declan seemed to notice that. He also noticed; Miranda wasn't.

With a sinking feeling, she realised the mission was never about retrieving the stollen artefact. In years’ time, she will find out the whole truth about that mission and the Time Masters ulterior motives.

***

Rip finally got to sit down and rest after the eventful and, frankly, disaster of a mission they had. He and Miranda were immediately taken to the Med-bay, then briefed for hours, until they were released to their quarters to recuperate.

While he got to physically relax, his mind couldn't slow down or stop thinking about everything that'd happened. It felt like everyone around him knew more than they were saying, it was starting to get on his nerves.

He also couldn't sleep without talking to Gideon first, to thank her, to apologise, or just simply talk. She would usually help him make sense of things. It was strange, in a good way, how dependant of her be became in such a short time.

The door beeping brought him back to reality. “Come in,” he said, and looked up. The door slid to reveal Miranda, trying to smile through a frown.

“Hey,” he said. “What's wrong?”

Her smile shifted right before him to something brilliant and false. He’d almost believed it. “Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Right.” He wished he could understand what went through her mind sometimes. “I'm okay. How's your?” He pointed to were the pole penetrated her body.

“Good as new.” She tapped on her stomach lightly.

Rip leaned on the headboard, crossing his arms and waited for her to say something for a whole minute. She started fidgeting, her eyes wandering, it was all very uncharacteristically nervous. She shook her head and said, “I got you something.”

Not what he expected to hear.

She pulled something golden from her pocket and held it up for him. A pocket watch.

“Why—Where did you get it from?”

“I bought from the Bazaar while you were busy grumbling about everything.” He tried to defend himself but decided there was no point trying. “It's to help complete the ‘Rip Hunter’ look. And... as a thank you... for coming back, and saving me.”

“I didn't do anything, that was hardly saving.”

She laughed lightly. “Yeah, but you tried. So, thank you.”

Hesitantly, he took the watch from her, opened it, the clock hands were stuck on four minutes to ten. On the left, it had an empty space for a picture. He looked up from it to her, she smiled, a real, genuine smile. That one he believed.

He patted the end of his bed for her to sit, she did gingerly. They sat there, for hours, talking. She told him more stories about Kathy and the Bazaar. He told her about Jonah and Calvert.

The warmth he usually felt around her spread through his chest and took root in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll edit this hot mess later.


End file.
